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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224299">Losing my Religion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWSD/pseuds/TWSD'>TWSD</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Gender Roles, M/M, Multi, Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Marianne von Edmund, Transitioning, no beta we die like Glenn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:42:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWSD/pseuds/TWSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TRIGGER WARNING: This fic contains content including gender dysphoric topics, homophobia, transphobia, graphic depictions of self harm, and other topics relating to negative transgender experiences.</p><p> </p><p>Maurice von Edmund is... Not the typical Goddess loving man he should be, could be. He think he has it figured out, that life is just meant to be full of misery.</p><p>Until he joins the class of the Golden Deer, and finds his world being flipped upside down by Hilda Valentine Goneril and her friends. Maybe there is a chance he can lead a better life, grow into a better person, transition to something new... Will the Goddess ever forgive him?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund, Marianne von Edmund &amp; Sylvain Jose Gautier, Marianne von Edmund/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Marianne von Edmund/Linhardt von Hevring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pretty for a Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“The Golden Deer, huh Maurice?” Sylvain spoke with a hint of something bitter on his tongue. He had every right to be. He was leaving them behind.</p><p> </p><p>Well, it wasn’t <em> exactly </em> his fault. Those in Leicester city were assigned to the golden deer house by default. While he could ask for a transfer… Well, why didn’t he? It was his fault just as much as Dean Rhea’s, for the system in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>What certainly wasn’t his fault was the way they had all grown so… distant. Sylvain and Ingrid’s antics had become a bit more harsh towards another, and Felix straight up despised Dimitri. To call them “friends” would be a stretch long enough to cross the Myrddin river. Ah, and there was Maurice himself. Shy, quiet Maurice. He used to talk more. Small, tiny Maurice. He used to eat more. Long hair, it used to be shorter. Tired eyes, they used to be wide. Maurice, whose voice was a little deeper and self a bit taller. He used to feel comfortable in his body. He used to be more like Sylvain. Used to be more of a man. Now he felt meek, tired, restless, and insignificant. Nights didn’t bring sleep anymore. Attention didn’t bring joy anymore. Life was less exciting, and even in his final year of school enthusiasm failed to arrive. Acute depressive disorder, the doctor had called it. He figured it something worse. After all the meds certainly never helped.</p><p> </p><p>His gaze hit the floor upon Sylvain’s words registering in his brain. Maurice. The name sounded awful too. Maybe because it belonged to his father’s father.</p><p> </p><p>That seemed like another stretch. Goddess, why?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Sylvain, I- I never even thought to transfer.” He apologized with a wavering, whimpering voice. Goddess, if Sylvian weren’t used to it he might have mistaken him for a kicked puppy.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it is what it is, you know? Besides, I’m sure the Leicester girls got a bit more going on, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Maurice wanted to just walk off. Sylvain’s misogyny had never felt so vile ringing in his ears. It wasn’t innocent, and childlike any longer. They weren’t kids any longer. Almost adults. It felt predatory. It felt <em> gross </em>. Should it be a blessing that he belongs to a new house? </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Leonie, Lysithea, Ignatz, Raphael, Lorenz, Hilda, and Claude. Those were the classmates in his homeroom. His team.</p><p> </p><p>Raphael was a burly man, and he looked to be the very <em> definition </em> of “gentle giant”. Now that right there was a handsome man. Yes, Raphael was certainly handsome.</p><p> </p><p>Ignatz was the opposite, he was short and skinny, like Maurice too. Alas, far different in many ways. He wasn’t tired. He didn’t wear his hair very long. He didn’t seem to mind his appearance, in fact he kept rather clean and groomed.</p><p> </p><p>Lorenz was a typical gentleman, the roundabout usual snobby rich kid running about the school. He was quite handsome too. Claude was handsome as well, he almost thought Leonie a boy, Hilda was <strike>pretty</strike> lazy, and...Goddess was that a child?</p><p> </p><p>“I am not a child!” Lysithea was sharp to remind him upon his asking.</p><p> </p><p>Oh. And they weren’t really a team. Far from it in fact. Lorenz was always creeping over Claude’s shoulder, judging. Lysithea was always angry. Leonie was the lone wolf. Hilda was just lazy, and sleeping in class, he noted. The closest semblance to team work in the group was Ignatz and Raphael. They seemed to be quite friendly amongst each other.</p><p> </p><p>So while the man with purple hair started a bickering fest with Claude, he took to laying in the back of the classroom. Undisturbed.</p><p> </p><p>Well, until miss Hilda Valentine Goneril woke up.</p><p> </p><p>“Heya!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh… um, Hi.” Maurice slowly opened both eyes up.</p><p> </p><p>“I like your braids, they’re really pretty!”</p><p> </p><p>“Um… pretty?” He frowned. <em> Boys shouldn’t be pretty </em>, his adoptive father had once reminded him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I think it looks really cute!”</p><p> </p><p>Maurice’s brain felt what he could only describe as short circuiting.</p><p> </p><p>“Um…”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a compliment, silly!”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, I’ve-”</p><p> </p><p>“Never been called pretty?” Hilda cut him short. “Allow me to be the first~”</p><p> </p><p>“It seems a bit backhanded… To call a boy pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>Hilda’s eyes shot open wide, a palm covering her lips, and her face growing a pitiful look for him. “I am <em> so </em> sorry. It’s just the hair, and-” Oh dear, she had… Thought him a girl?</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine.” Totally fine. Hadn’t been the first time someone has. He didn’t really mind. Really.</p><p> </p><p>Hilda’s shoulders drooped as the tension within her withered. “Well… I mean it anyways, you really <em> are </em> pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>Nope.</p><p> </p><p>This was awful.</p><p> </p><p>Maurice was frozen, eyes strung to his shoes. He could deal with the mistake she had made, sure, but never in his life had he felt so much sheer, raw, embarrassment. Pretty. This was the first time he blushed in his entire life, probably.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, sorry, what’s your name?” She blinked innocently, as if she hadn’t just caused him public humiliation.</p><p> </p><p>“Maurice.”</p><p> </p><p>The name didn’t sit well on her tongue, judging by the slight face she made. It was an ugly name, he agreed.</p><p> </p><p>“Maurice… I’m Hilda!” He knew that, but a name to match the face made it clearer.</p><p> </p><p>It was a pretty name. Frankly, he was jealous.</p><p> </p><p>It rolled off the tongue much nicer. It rolled around in his head much more. Infact, Hilda took up his mindspace for the rest of the day, the bus ride home, and as he walked into the mirror with a pair of scissors.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just cut it. It’s just hair. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Just cut it… and he wouldn’t be mistaken for a girl again. He wouldn’t be pretty, of all things.</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p> </p><p>He trimmed enough hair from his face to form what might be considered bangs. He looked…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Like Hilda. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He nearly tore into his poor hair again with the shears before he let them lay on the granite again. Don’t be reckless, Maurice, cutting them shorter would just make it worse. There’s other ways to make hair look shorter. For now he’d just look like Hilda. And that was alright, yeah? She was pretty.</p><p> </p><p>Ah. But he was a man now, according to Margrave Edmund. Men are not supposed to be pretty. Handsome, sure, but was it not insulting to call a man pretty?</p><p> </p><p>Well he was a man either way, so he was <em> handsome </em>, then.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t say that while looking in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>Like everything else in his teenage life, it just didn’t feel right.</p><p> </p><p>Goddess forgive…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Do Me a Favor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hilda asks something big of Maurice, but finds maybe he’s not all she thought of him. In some ways better, in fact.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been at least a week now since Maurice had started his classes amongst the Golden Deer. Thankfully, most everyone avoided him like a plague. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Most</span>
  </em>
  <span> everyone. There was the exception, and her name was Hilda Valentine Goneril.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he found out, Hilda loved to talk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Adored it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even. She loved gossip, above all. She had a devilish grin as she described Lorenz’s terrible new haircut in excruciating detail. Maurice grinned too once he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. That grimace fell after Hilda told him that “Lorenz should take notes.” That his “looked pretty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She whispered while quoting something Ingrid had said that was shockingly homophobic. He didn’t know why he felt his stomach drop into a pit. Maybe he just felt pity for Sylvain this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she laughed while telling him about a fight Caspar had gotten into. He didn’t know who Caspar was, and frankly he didn’t really care to find out. He didn’t need to ask questions, Hilda had enough words for the two of them, and he ended up finding out who Caspar was anyways. Oh, and he almost mistook his friend Linhardt for a girl. Oddly, he just didn’t care.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Above all, Hilda loved </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> working. She loved to goad Mr. Essar with her excuses. She loved skipping classes, thought what she did beyond the school walls was unknown to him. He dare not risk the trouble of accepting an invitation out. And she loved making others do her work. Asking Lorenz to copy his notes. Asking another boy to copy those notes for her… He should have expected that one of these shallow days, he’d be one of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pleaaase, I really need to go on this date tonight! And there is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> way I can get all this done! You get what I mean, right Maurice? It’s just so much work!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she was right of course, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a lot of work. Maurice couldn’t even think about how he was going to finish his, let alone Hilda’s. Not to mention… Yeah, he was awful at chemistry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Hil-” The packet was already shoved into his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m so sorry Hilda… I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay Maurice, these things happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Especially when you get someone else to do it for you.” Hilda giggled, but not the bubbly kind she often did, it was apologetic and sorrowful. Goddess, how did he screw up so bad? “Besides! It’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> bad grade, next time, I’ll just ask you to do something you’re good at, how’s that sound?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… I’m afraid I’m just no good at anything.” Maurice tried to hide how guilty he felt behind his hands. He couldn’t bear the thought of Hilda seeing his face. He wasn’t as pretty as she claimed really. Oh, plus he didn’t want her to see how sad he was. Yeah.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on Maury! Surely there’s something you’re good at!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His head began to spin. Wha- Maury? And never mind the fact that there really </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything he was good at. All around mediocre.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately… No. Sorry.” He dejectedly sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I guess that means I’ll have to do it for you.” She rolls her eyes, before her hands grab at the chemistry worksheet laying facedown on the desk. Huh?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda Valentine Goneril? Offering to do work? Surely there was a catch?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just buy me coffee tomorrow morning and we’ll be even, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Goddess, his brain just did not have time to catch up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you!~” She cooed, heading back over to where Claude was sitting. Coffee. At least he can’t screw that up.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt total shock as he stared at the 100 on his paper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why did Hilda even ask for people’s help? She was good at this. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hilda… I’m sorry for making you do all that. That must have been a lot of hard work…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it Maurice! That’s what friends are for!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… Friends?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice didn’t say much else, unsure of where to even continue. Hilda saw him as a friend, not as someone pathetic or gross or even sick. It made his heart melt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your smile is super pretty.” Hilda interrupted his happy thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- um…!” Maurice huffed. “You always call me pretty…” He frowned. “But I’m a boy…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boys can be pretty too!” Hilda shot a smile, but he didn’t return one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright. Sorry handsome~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His stomach twisted into knots. Never has he felt so disgusted by a simple word. It made him physically queasy. Handsome… No one has ever called him handsome. Sure, his adoptive father said one day he’d be a handsome </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he never actually said he was. He didn’t feel handsome. He felt like a freak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he thinks he prefers pretty.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dear Goddess…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah praying to the goddess, saying your grace?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Claude! Um… What are you doing up here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maurice, right? I could ask you the same thing. This is where I always eat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I-I’m sorry, I’ll move-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” Claude interjects, opting to sit across from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sat in silence for a bit, up until Hilda came to join them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey handsome!” Claude almost smiled, and so did Maurice until he realized that was aimed at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It still sounded so </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you’ve been awfully quiet today.” Hilda pouts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s always quiet, Hilda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know I talk to him everyday.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really now?” They both turn to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on handsome, tell him I’m right, please?~” Hilda begs with puppy dog eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s cute. He could never look as good as she does… Not handsome or pretty or otherwise.  Handsome still makes his gut turn over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hilda… P-Please…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah come on Hil, you’re scaring him!” Claude jests</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice doesn’t laugh. Hilda doesn’t laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In fact, she looks rather dejected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She understands.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry Maury, I didn’t know it was making you so uncomfortable, you really should have told me sooner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hilda…” He bemoans, looking down at her. He hated that. When did he start hating that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She puts on a smile. Maybe not a real one, but it’s still comforting. “Can I still call you pretty?” She begs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not pretty… Not like you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like- oh stop it you flirt!~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It makes him sick to his stomach. It makes him feel like a creep. It makes him feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like a grown man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t like that feeling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For someone so quiet, you’re quite the charmer.” Hilda winks, and that sinking feeling only brings him further down into his spiraling thoughts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d… Rather not be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She puts a hand on his shoulder. “Well, you better stop being so dang </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute</span>
  </em>
  <span> then!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He barely had words left, at this point. What else was there to say? Nothing, that would work fine, but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel pretty… But I don’t mind when you call me that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda looks happy now, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, because I have to compliment your looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  Her eyes rolled back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what looks she could possibly mean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you choose pretty first…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> think you were a girl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do I… Do I </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a girl?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda merely smiled.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Means to be a Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Maurice has no choice but to ask his father for a favor, not wanting to let his new friend Hilda down. Meanwhile Claude and Maurice grow a little closer than either anticipated.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Edmund.... A powerful name belonging to an even more powerful man. Maurice could never live up to it. To be a strong man… He felt his thoughts grow grim, taunting him over an uncertain future. Maurice took more after his mother anyways. And frankly, becoming a “strong, handsome man” felt unappetizing, and impossible to keep down. He’d prefer if people didn’t describe him by appearance, but something about being called “pretty” had him under a bit of a spell. Hilda’s spell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The compliments kept getting more specific, and it was starting to become transparent what her goals were.  Help him be confident. He couldn’t think of a reason someone would compliment one’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyelashes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all things. Sure, that had been one offhand comment, but it still rattled around in his brain for one reason or another.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he thinks he’s figured it out, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> being complimented. Except for when that compliment is handsome, apparently. Maybe not as figured out as he had thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More urgent, he had yet to figure out what exactly Hilda was complimenting. He was too tall, lanky, skinny. He’d look better if he was shorter. Or taller, not somewhere in between. His body was sickly pale, since he had stopped participating in sports of any kind, and his hip bones awkwardly jutted out. His eyes were sunken in, his cheeks were too chubby, his ribs were too wide and stuck out too much, everything was just too much. Either that or too little. He can’t believe Hilda actually thought him a woman. And then there was his… Goddess, he didn’t dare think of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> ugly thing right now. What he needed right now… Well honestly he needed to get out of the shower and get dressed, that would certainly help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Father.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maurice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two gave each other an understanding nod, as he went to the kitchen to prepare himself breakfast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get a haircut this afternoon.” His father remarked. He knew the implication.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice looked dejectedly into the pan of eggs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your hair is so pretty!” That woman had said to him in front of his adoptive father. It wasn’t the same kind of memory he had with Hilda. He couldn’t even remember her face. But he certainly remembers the half scolding he got from his father for saying “thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boys aren’t supposed to be pretty.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d ask the Goddess for guidance before eating his breakfast, querying why he had to be born this way. Why couldn’t he just be something different?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t he be more like Hilda?</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> you don’t want to come?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice could barely resist the puppy dog eyes Hilda gave her. Goddess, she was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Yeesh, he was thinking like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvain.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He noted how often his name came up in his head when he thought he was doing something sexist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t think it’s a good idea Hilda… There's gonna be so many people there and- are you sure you’d want to be seen with me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She just rolls her eyes back. “Of course I do! You’re my friend! Besides, I’d be kind of sad if you missed my </span>
  <em>
    <span>birthday</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know if my father would let me come.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you have to ask before assuming things, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda smiles. He isn’t exactly encouraged by that.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Father.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Maurice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks up from his book, reading Maurice’s already nervous face. Oh goddess, how did he think this would work?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you mean to ask me for something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well? What is the matter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um…” he stumbles over his words. “My friend- um, they’re having a party, and I was just wondering if I could go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked down into his book for a moment, making Maurice’s anxiety shoot through the roof.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This friend… What’s his name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um- her name...her name is Hilda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of silence as Margrave Edmund puts his book down. Then he starts searching through his wallet, placing a 100 dollar bill into Maurice’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get something special for your lady friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m afraid you misunderstand, we’re just friends…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s how it starts out, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His father smiles, but Maurice can’t see it as anything other than wicked. Was that what this was? Was that what it was fated to be? Hilda was just supposed to be some prize for him to win over or something? If those were the expectations of a man, he wanted none of it. Goddess, please…</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm… You know, I was kinda having trouble too. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hilda want for her birthday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um...that's why I asked you. You seemed… Closer to her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude gave a half gasp half laugh, eyeing Maurice after.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve known her for almost 2 months now. Don’t you know what she likes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, but… I want to get her something meaningful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, something special huh?~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice almost doubled over.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please… Don’t say such things.” He frowned, Claude surprisingly didn’t grow mad. Actually, he looked a little apologetic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry… How about clothes? She’d appreciate some additions to her wardrobe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I don’t have much of a fashion sense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about perfume?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what kind she’d like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some friend I am…” Maurice bows his head, ashamed to have rejected all of Claude’s ideas. Goddess, maybe it was a bad idea to go in the first place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get her anything, her family is filthy rich. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your company.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice doesn’t believe that for a second. “I have to get her something worth more than that…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude chuckles, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Dude, she really likes you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He- he couldn’t possibly mean in that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude, d- don’t say that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, you don’t like her back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Claude, not like that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air is stiff between them for a bit, despite the fact Claude is still touching him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you like guys, Maurice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… No. At least, I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t think so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...It’s just not what the Goddess would want.” He admits, and to that, Claude does not seem pleased. He removes his arm around Maurice’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t your- the goddess want you to do what makes you happy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice shakes his head. “It doesn’t quite work like that. Um- Sometimes what makes us happy isn’t what’s good for us. I-If we live by how the Goddess teaches us, then we can live fuller lives.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude takes a step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not to offend your tiny world view, but there's nothing wrong with being gay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude’s eyebrows are arched down. His arms are crossed. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> mad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um- I-I don’t mean it like that! It’s just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can so many people be against something if it’s supposed to be okay?” Maurice whimpers, trying to hold back on that anxious feeling crawling up his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude crosses his arms and leans his chin into his fingers, lost in thought for but a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like something we could figure out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you suggesting-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My place at 8?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude… This seems…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seems?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wrong… I-I don’t even know you that well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, you can confess your sins later. It’ll be a good time, I promise.” He doubles down on it with a wink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Why me?” Maurice begs, begs him to reconsider. “What’s even in it for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I have to admit it, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute… plus I’d feel bad if you just kept repressing forever. I get to get off and you get your feelings sorted out. Doesn’t that sound nice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I-I’m sorry Claude, I’m just so nervous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine, I can wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude is… Well, mysterious, but Maurice’s brain is sending a bunch of mixed signals. Yes, Claude is handsome, and cute, and the way he pulls his hoodie off makes Maurice feel a warmth crawl all over his insides… But isn’t this supposed to be wrong? A sin? Isn’t this what man is not supposed to do?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If that were the case he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be a man. Maybe he could just stay a boy forever. Or maybe there was another answer he was avoiding. What would wishing for it change anyways?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice takes his shirt off, hands quickly coming over his chest to guard… Well nothing. It was empty. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> empty. This might actually be the worst he’s felt about his body in a long time. Since…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, the water’s warm!” Sylvain shoots a smile and a bit of chlorinated pool water his way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone’s having fun. Dimitri is having fun. Dedue… seems to be having fun. Ingrid is having fun. Sylvain is definitely having fun. And Felix is- well okay, maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>he's</span>
  </em>
  <span> not having fun, but either way… Maurice just feels like the most miserable one there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels bare, as if he let go of this towel that everything would be exposed. Goddess, why was he cursed with such a body?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The water truly does feel incredible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He believed Dimitri, of course, but the temperature of the water was the last of his worries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, I’m fine, really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, are you afraid of a little swimming?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Knock it off Sylvain.” Ingrid elbows his shoulder. Maurice does little to find comfort in anything though, and finds himself retiring to one of the lounge chairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long for someone to approach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maurice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… Dedue…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Boss has requested again that you join the others in the pool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I’m sorry Dedue, I can’t-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Swim?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No… I’m just not very comfortable with my swimsuit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see. Would you prefer a full body suit, like mine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, I was thinking more like Ingrid’s...Um! Just something to cover the- the top…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t go swimming that day. In fact, when was the last time he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone swimming? Surely many months ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too many...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you good Maurice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You spaced out a bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude pulls Maurice closer, by the waist. And everything feels hotter and blurrier. Everything is- Goddess it feels good, too good. And sure, the fact how Claude doesn’t comment on his cuts and scars makes him feel a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> warm inside, but staring at Claude’s body… It just made his insides feel like jelly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This doesn’t feel quite right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude removes his hands, giving a remorseful sigh. “Alright. That’s fi-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude jumps up once Maurice’s lips meet his. He doesn’t fight back though, in fact he leans into it, grabbing Maurice’s braids in a gentle way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has a hard time believing it at first. That someone would really </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to kiss him. That somebody could look at his face and think </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is acceptable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It felt… surreal. Even after they pulled away Maurice couldn’t quite fathom what happened. Wasn’t he the one so hesitant? Why did he kiss first? Oh Goddess he had just kissed another man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did it feel?” Claude asked earnestly. He… had good intentions. Maurice’s guilt swelled up for not reciprocating that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” Maurice whimpered, looking into his emerald eyes. “It didn’t feel quite right. Um- I liked it. But- I mean… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t feel quite right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Claude slipped his hoodie back over his body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I um- I don’t know what you see in me…” Maurice hugged his own shoulders, afraid of what he was even confessing. Goddess save him. “I’m a pathetic excuse of a man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that, you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Really, you’re a good man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I… I’m not much of a man at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude nods in understanding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And? If the Goddess wants you to be that way, then maybe you should look for advice somewhere else? You should be whatever kind of man you want to be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- um- I love the Goddess, I wouldn’t want to upset her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude looks dissatisfied. “You shouldn’t let anyone or anything hold you back from living the life you want. Just be yourself, and the rest comes through.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be...myself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yup. What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to be?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think you do know.” He winks. “At least in some capacity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she does.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Hilda's Happy Birthday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Drama unfolds at Hilda’s birthday party. Dimitri searches for his new friend, Edelgard searches for an old partner, and Claude… Searches for a way to not seem guilty.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm glad people seem to be enjoying this fic! Thank you all so much for the kind comments :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Aw, Mary, you didn’t have to!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, well, it’s your birthday… Of course I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hugs him back. “These will look so pretty in a necklace! I can’t wait to use it~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you made all your jewelry before, it’s really good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Awww stop, you’re being too nice!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I mean it, you’re really talented Hilda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face glows pink like her hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Awww, Mary… You’re such a great… person.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Person? He didn’t feel like much of one. Not since that night with Claude. Not since he decided...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well frankly he had avoided coming to that conclusion. How sinful. How perverted. Surely he’d burn in Ailel if he didn’t confess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being here with Hilda though, alone… It makes that burning desire unquestionable. He envied her, and badly. To dress so beautifully, to look so gorgeous… Those weren’t things a man could be. Not the kind that would make the Goddess satisfied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… you don’t need to flatter me Hilda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean it! You’re really so sweet. This is like, the most thoughtful thing anyone has got me today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Surely you don’t mean that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do. You’re… always very thoughtful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blushes again. She had a habit of making him do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face fades to pale as he starts thinking about what’s happening. What Claude implied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why- why did you call me out here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I just wanted to spend some time with you. Just us, I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just us?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you… I hate large crowds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww Mary. You did great, don’t worry about it.” She pinches his cheek gently, soon after running her hand through his braids. Slowly undoing them. Slowly coming undone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hilda…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” She bats her lashes, so cute, and so demanding of him… He frankly didn’t know how much more he could take</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I um…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, take your time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m not as great as you think. Truthfully… I wish I could be more like you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like me? Maurice… You’re undervaluing yourself!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No Hilda, I, um, I’m actually really… jealous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jealous of me?” She doesn’t seem a bit surprised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice nods. “You’re so pretty, and everyone loves you. You’re not a burden to others, you really have a kind heart… I wish I was more like you. You always dress so nicely, and you’re not afraid to be yourself. Yes, I- I’m jealous…” he looks at her, and notices she’s not even looking at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be listening to me complain on your birthday, you should be-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh. I want to spend time with you dummy. Why do you think we’re alone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You got me all embarrassed, I’m surprised you think so highly of me. But I’m really not all that… You’re much better than me in that regard.” She stifles an awkward laugh. “As for the rest, just be yourself!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um- I can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure you can!” Hilda's smile beams. “Just…do what you want! Plus! How many times do I have to tell you you’re pretty?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t… Not like you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… because I’m a boy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her skull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She scoffs. “You know what? Here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He quickly catches the fabric she tosses at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A shirt. Put it on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s...only half a shirt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh goddess you sound like Holst… just, put it on! Trust me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a crop top, Maurice comes to realize as he tosses it over. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Isn’t the point of a sweater to keep warm? Why would it be short?</span>
  </em>
  <span> And, short it was, coming just above his navel. It's… Short...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s one of Hilda’s tops.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hilda, i- is this yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well duh, why would I have clothes in my room that aren’t mine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...um. I- I’m wearing… a woman's top?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To that, Hilda grows an annoyed look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dude. It’s clothes. There’s nothing gay about being fashionable, besides, Claude already told me about-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“HE DID?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda blinked, looking him over all confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… how much you spent. It’s only fair that I give you something in return, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh thank the Goddess, not that. Not that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um. It’s your birthday.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right…” Hilda chuckles. “Can’t you just let me do something nice for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing you’re going to say no, so just put this on next.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hilda. This is a skirt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wear a skirt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you don’t want to or because of some </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> arbitrary reason?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fashionable! I thought you said you wanted to dress like me, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, I said I wanted to dress </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Like me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I’m a guy…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, isn’t that wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um...in the book of Seiros.” He pauses. Expecting a laugh, expecting her to roll her eyes. She doesn’t quite. She’s listening, and intently. “The Goddess says that marriage was made for a man and a woman. And- uhm…” What was the point he was making again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But Hilda, what if someone sees me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re the only ones here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice caves, pulling it over his jeans and on his waist. The bottom hits the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Higher, silly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah, so that’s why she gave him a crop top. He still felt exposed, despite the fact no skin was showing now, but… differently. Emotionally?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on! Look!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda quickly pulls him in front of the mirror. Oddly, the grey of the sweater somehow matches with the yellow of the skirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More importantly, it somehow matches him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> look pretty. Not that he could ever admit it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, it looks nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Correction, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> look nice~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H-Hilda!” He blushes, trying to keep his speech coherent while the cogs in his mind turn. Trying to figure out what was going on. Trying to figure out why it all felt so right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See, nothing wrong with it at all!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though his lips curl down at the realization that something was wrong. That this wasn’t actually his normal. That he couldn’t go out like this. He couldn’t live like this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hilda…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled the skirt off and exchanged sweaters again, handing them back to her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Maurice, didn’t you hear me say I wanted to do something for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can keep them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt disgusted with himself, disgusted that he didn’t hesitate to take them back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, you don’t think it’s weird? That I’m a boy, and um- I wore a skirt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. They’re just clothes, silly~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just clothes… they felt so right, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wasn’t it? Goddess, please.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Normally for Dimitri, and especially Dedue, a crowd like this was not the ideal place to be, nor a party like this. Alas, it was Hilda’s birthday, and as president of the Blue Lions house it was basically his duty to show up. And Dedue… Well Dedue stuck to his side like glue. Even with his companion by him, the large walls of the mansion-like house still felt like they could cave at any moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He is here, isn’t he?” Dimitri turns to Dedue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Somewhere, I would assume.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t bring myself to understand. We’ve been friends since we’ve been children.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It has been a month, at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That is what worries me. Why would he be so avoidant? He hadn’t even responded to my last text.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dedue puts a finger on his chin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when did you send that text, Boss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see. Do you think it possible your friend did not show? Maurice doesn’t seem the party type.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude said he would be here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Say my name, your princeliness?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri jumps as a hand smacks his shoulder, unmistakably belonging to the man he just named.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your prince-? Claude.” He scorns with arms crossed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a joke! Take it easy Dimitri.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t really.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you spotted Maurice, Claude? You did say he would be attending.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude’s green eyes dart left, and then back up to the blonde. Dimitri hoped he could read whatever the hell he was thinking, but it appeared lost on him. Surely he didn’t lie?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude. Did you lie so I would show up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on Dimitri, you were going to show anyways. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> has to keep an eye on Sylvain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ingrid.” He said rather unremarkably, but without hesitation. “And I do not appreciate you avoiding the question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeesh. Wind down a little, wouldn’t hurt, would it? It’s a party!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen him since 8. I think he might have ran off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Perceptive are we?” Claude chuckles, but it’s not as easy going as his usual. “Probably Hilda.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hilda?” Not as perceptive as Claude thinks, unfortunately. Hilda? What was he doing with Hilda?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. They get around a lot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, you’ve been telling me to get to the point, but I think you should too. What do you need to see him so badly for anyways?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just missing an old friend is all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I tried texting him. He hasn’t responded.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know how he is. Give him some space. The party is probably overwhelming as is, yeah? Think he just needs… space.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri couldn’t read lies, but he could read expressions. That wasn’t a request. It was a threat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t always like that, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you’ve known him longer than I have, what changed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes people just change Dimitri, besides, he has a lot going on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand. I’m his friend. If something still- if something ails his mind, how come he cannot speak to me of it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude’s hands awkwardly meet the back of his head, an anxious look on his face despite the laidback body language and joyful tune he whistled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you know that I don’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, not much Dimi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not, but I made a promise. I don’t kiss and tell.” Claude grins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It grows wider.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he can get more answers, the Almyran vanishes into the sea of a crowd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>dastard</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boss.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dedue.” He whips around, he would have almost forgotten his presence in the heat of the conversation if not for the man’s size.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid not. Claude has left me with more mysteries than answers, as per usual.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dedue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boss. I think you should at least consider the possibility. I do not believe Claude would lie this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... And why not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Would he have told us Maurice was here if he did not wish to give us </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> information?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... But the implication…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is there something wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! Of course not! But the way Claude put it was...distateful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If that’s what Maurice wants, we should not judge him for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, but I still worry for him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you wish to look for him, Boss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No Dedue. Let’s depart, actually. I think I’ve had enough party for one night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I cannot </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’s actually here!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um Hilda?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes Maurice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Edelgard</span>
  </em>
  <span>! And- and Hubert! </span>
  <b>Hubert</b>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, what do you have against Edelgard?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hilda chuckles. “Why didn’t you ask about Hubert too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, I think I understand where you’re coming from there.” Who wouldn’t? Hubert was a scary man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well if you must know, Edelgard is my ex.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah. That made a lot of sense.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, then what is she doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I think there's a better way to go about this than spying on them from the bushes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Such as…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, um, maybe you should just confront them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to confront Hubert?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um.” he pauses for a bit. If it’d make Hilda happy… “If you would like me too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“R-Really?” Her eyes pop open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aww Mary! You’re too kind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say?” He stands, despite his fears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno, just get her moving, okay?~ I’ll buy you more clothes if you do~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You- you don’t need to reward me. There’s really no need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if I do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha-?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much, Mary, really, I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> deal with those two tonight. You understand, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles, and he finds himself smiling too. And then he finds himself crawling out of the bush, and finds himself approaching Edelgard herself. Oh Goddess, what was he thinking?!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, Edelgard?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Hello?” She turns to face him, slightly annoyed that he interrupted her conversation with Hubert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I um-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” Hubert demands. Goddess protect…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, I’m Maurice.” He tries not to shake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maurice, I don’t believe we’ve ever been acquainted. I’m Edelgard, though you seem to know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, um… H-Hilda wants you to leave!” He blurts out, unsure of how else to continue the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… See…” Edelgard sighs somewhat grievingly. “I should have expected as much, I do not know why I thought Claude to be honest about her wanting me here.” She looks up at Maurice. Seiros, she might have been ever scarier than Hubert. “I apologize that she made you do this, I had hoped she would have at least spoken to me herself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, it’s okay, sorry.” Why was he apologizing? He volunteered to do it. Actually, it was his idea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’d be better to let that fact slide, considering Hubert’s ominous presence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed. Quite a coward's move I must say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one asked you, Hubert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s eyes shoot open wide, and Edelgard grows a bit of a tough look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit, he didn’t think that. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pardon- did I just hear you correctly?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m so sorry- I just-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave it, Hubert.” Edelgard orders of him. Shockingly he listens, like a dog on a leash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand where you’re coming from, it’s certainly not my place to speak from… and I well understand her hatred of me. Come now, Hubert, let us leave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they do, Edelgard walking off as Hubert’s eyes bore holes into his skull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m keeping my eyes on you.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He makes sure to remark as they walk off. Goddess save him.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You two have fun?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Claude!” Both Hilda and Maurice remark at the same time. He couldn’t help but laugh a bit at getting a scare out of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> of them. And getting a scare out of Hilda especially!-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It meant she had something to hide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“People have been looking for the birthday girl, why don’t you come out of hiding?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m having fun with my bestie Claude, can’t I enjoy that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well sure, but a bush is an odd place to have fun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was hiding.” She remarks, Maurice having taken a backseat in the conversation for now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“From?” Edelgard, of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Edelgard and Dracula.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice tries to keep a giggle down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, are they still here? I can give them a good old boot out the door if you need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No actually, Mary took care of it for me~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Khalid did a double take, for the first time in forever. Maurice just hid tons of surprises, huh?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maurice did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maurice tries to hide a blush between their palms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yup, aren’t they soooo brave? Doing all of that for little old me?~”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Khalid tried to hide his shock behind a smile. So they </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> like her. At least a little bit. They had to have, to stand up to Hubert.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well color me surprised, what’s gotten into you Maurice? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- um-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Relax Claude, Mary just did me a favor!~” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think Hubert might kill me…” Maurice mumbles into their sleeve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three of them share a hearty laugh, before Maurice quiets down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about that grouch.” Hilda rubs circles into his back. It seems to calm them down a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damnit, they really </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I won’t bother you both, you seem like you’re enjoying yourselves.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them shared a smile, Gods they were a perfect pair. More importantly, Maurice was happy. They were talking and joking and laughing. Maybe she could be herself, and if all went according to plan maybe Hilda wouldn’t mind. At least, he hoped, and hopefully she could figure the rest out, she was a smart girl, despite what she said of her capabilities.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Claude, you said you wanted to talk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was serious, then, Hilda figured. When Claude wanted to hang out he said he wanted to chill. When he wanted to stay the night he’d ask to crash at her place. When he wanted to talk he wanted to talk. What made her worried was that he wanted to right before her birthday. Would he not be able to attend?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s about Maurice… me and him had a bit of a...fling last night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gasped. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>fought</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maury?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha- no! We “hung out” Hilda.” He was sure to emphasize “hung out” with little wiggles of his fingers. But what the hell-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. Ohh. OHHH!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude!” Her face turns a bright pink. “Did you guys-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no. We didn’t go </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> far.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew it! He is-“ she flicks her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, at least a little bit. But…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Buuut?~ come on Claude, spill the tea!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raises a brow. “I don’t know if you’re ready to hear this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude. I was born ready.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Riiiight… Well I’ll get to the point, I think your bff might be transgender.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She almost spits out some of her red bull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you- are you sure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The uncomfortability, the way he covered his chest. The way he talks about himself and his expectations…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like you guys did more talking than banging.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes roll back, but he’s definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> not to laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>super</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure. I mean, not that I should ever assume things like that. But you know my cousin? She acted that way too before she transitioned.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure that’s evidence Claude?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well not exactly. But come on, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Maurice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a nice thing to say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? You have something against it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No of course not! But like, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hmmm. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> make sense. Maurice was pretty girly, but Hilda assumed because he was gay. She couldn't have ever expected- ever have thought it’d be something else entirely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what does that mean…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I think he’s scared to come out. Social expectations, the Goddess, Margrave Edmund… And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> we should help. Don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claude. You’re crazy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s my middle name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can’t help but scoff, bastard…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just, you know, let him know we’re there for him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should probably start by not calling her him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know anything for certain, so, just one thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It stays between the three of us for now, alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That or the fact you guys got in bed together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t help but laugh off the punch to her shoulder.</span>
</p>
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